she said. "You won't, will you?"

"Not if there is really no reason for it," he said.

She stirred restlessly. "There isn't--indeed. Aunt Philippa will tell you
that. I was letting off fireworks with Noel only last night."

"And set fire to yourself," said Mordaunt.

She started a little. "Who told you that?"

"Noel."

"Oh! Well, nothing happened, thanks to--to Bertie. He put it out for me."

"I think there had better not be any more fireworks unless I am there,"
Mordaunt said. "I don't like to think of my wife running risks of that
sort."

"Very well, Trevor," she said meekly.

"Where did the fireworks come from?" he pursued.

"We made them--Noel and I. We used some of your cartridges for gunpowder.
He got saltpetre and one or two other things from the chemist. They were
quite a success," said Chris, with a touch of her old light gaiety.

"And you are paying for it to-day," he said. "It will be a good thing
when Noel goes back to school."

"Oh no," she answered quickly. "It wasn't the fireworks. I often have
wakeful nights."

It was the first time she had ever alluded to the fact. He wondered if
she would summon the courage to tell him something further. He earnestly
hoped she would; but he hoped in vain. Chris said no more.

He paused for a full minute to give her time, but, save that she became
tensely still, she made no sign. Very quietly he let the matter pass. He
would not force her confidence, but he realized at that moment more
clearly than ever before that she had only really belonged to him during
the brief fortnight that they had been alone together. The two months of
their married life had but served to teach him this somewhat bitter
lesson, and he determined then and there to win her back as he had won
her at the outset, to make her his once more and to keep her so for ever.

"I am going to take you away, Chris," he said. "You are wanting a change.
Noel's holidays will be over next week. We will start then."

"Where shall we go?" said Chris, and he detected the relief with which
she hailed the change of subject.

"We will go to Valpre," he said, with quiet decision.

"Valpre!" The word leaped out as if of its own volition. Chris suddenly
sprang upright from her pillows, and gazed at him wide-eyed. In the dim
light he could not see her face distinctly, but there was something
almost suggestive of fear in her attitude. "Why Valpre?" she said, in a
queer, breathless undertone as if she co